


Gravity

by emilyherself (mercilette)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auror Harry Potter, Aurors, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Research, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercilette/pseuds/emilyherself
Summary: Liv Wellwood is psyched she's been assigned to a high profile case in the Auror Department, until she sees that she's paired up with Harry Potter. An unlikely friendship, an alcoholic boyfriend, and an absentee best friend leave Liv looking at life with a new perspective. (Warning: substance abuse, domestic violence, sexual content) Updates every M/W/F at 9AM EST!





	1. Chapter 1

Paul Kensington, Head of Research for the Aurors, peeked his head over the wall of the cramped cubicle. It was technically a two person cube, though it was at capacity. File folders were strewn about, a box from the Archive spread across the desk, and there were at least two cups of coffee sitting next to the young woman working intently. 

"Hey, Wellwood," he said, tapping the light that hung overhead with his wand. The previously dim cube was lit with a warm, flickering light.

She looked up from her desk, where she had been crouching over an old records book. She pushed her reading glasses up her nose. "Yes?"

"New case for you-- it's high profile. I think you're going to like this." 

Her eyes widened: her interest was piqued. She picked up one of the cups of coffee and leaned forward, "Tell me more."

"Meet me in my office at the top of the hour, I'll tell you all about it," he responded. "And for goodness' sake, turn your lights on. You'll be useless to me if you're blind from squinting so much."

\---  
She sat across from him in his office, crossing her long, slender legs and tightly grasping a fresh notebook. A fresh cup of coffee was just an arm’s reach away, on his desk. She was eager.

"So,” Kensington said, taking a seat with a tawny folder open in front of him. Have you heard of this Magi-Crack thing that all the youths are overdosing on?" 

"I'm familiar with it,” she said. 

He peeked at her over the rims of his glasses.

"Not like that!" she exclaimed. "Kensington, that's really how you think I spend my nights and weekends?"

He shrugged, and continued. "Anyways, we've had an anonymous tip that two thugs, fresh out of Hogwarts, are making and distributing it."

"Ah, a good case, finally," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. She didn’t look down, but her hand was scribbling quickly as she started to take notes. 

"You have to admit, you do have a twisted sense of humor," he said, before continuing on. "I'd like to assign the case to you-- if that's alright."

"Absolutely."

"We'll have you on Research, Darsyn on Liability, and Potter on the Ground."

A scowl fell over her pale face. "Really?"

"I know, I know. He's not your favorite person. But he's far and away the most qualified for this case, don't you agree?"

She rolled her eyes. She and Potter clashed often over her years in the department. He’d more recently transitioned to working with new Aurors, mentoring them and she couldn’t have been happier. She detested his lack of adherence to procedure, and wasn’t quiet about it. But she couldn’t deny he was a keen and skilled Auror. "I'll get to work."

"That's the spirit!" Kensington responded, handing the folder with all the information to her. "I know you won't let us down."

She stood up to exit, tucking the folder on her arm, but he stopped her before she exited the door. 

"Wellwood--" she turned to see what he wanted. "Is everything okay at home? You've been staying pretty late--"

"Never been better," she said, as if she were convincing herself, and she slipped out the door. 

\---

She cracked open the case file during lunch-- a working lunch, because why socialize with coworkers you don't really like when you could actually get things done?

Timothy Nimmo and Marcus McCain were the two suspects, and their pictures certainly matched Kensington's description. They were thugs. Graduated lowest in their class. And now they were likely going to end up in prison. 

She got surprisingly far that afternoon, diving into records of suspicious magical activity, looking at purchasing logs for potion shops from London to Hogsmeade, and started to dig deeper. 

"Hey, Wellwood," a male voice called, and she turned around. "Got a sec?"

She pursed her lips as Potter walked into her cube, leaned against the wraparound desk, and crossed his arms.

"Apparently," she said, swiveling her chair around to face him. She removed her reading glasses and sighed. "What do you need?"

"Just wanted a status report on our case before we all head home for the weekend."

"So far I've cross referenced the Suspicious Magical Activity report with any addresses they may have connections to," she said, laying the reports out in front of him. "I think I may be on to something. McCain's great aunt Gertrude was admitted to Saint Mungo's weeks ago, and there seems to be some funny activity patterns at a house she owns. I'm going to keep watching that."

She flipped that record shut, and opened up a new file. "I received this from Gringotts just a bit ago, and it looks like both boys have had a lot of galleons fluctuating in and out of their accounts recently. The Goblins were kind enough to provide me some transaction records, and it seems like a lot of money has been spent at potion stores."

"I've sent letters to the stores asking for itemized receipts-- I've gotten a few back already, I should have the rest by Monday. But I think it's pretty safe to say we have our men."

"Impressive," he said, nodding along as she spoke. "You pulled all of this together in just an afternoon?"

"Well, they're not exactly the brightest of criminals."

"So what are your next steps?"

"I'm going to follow up and see where Gertrude McCain is staying these days. I'll contact Mungo's, and if she's not still there, I'd like to send some low level Aurors to do a wellness check."

"Makes sense. I'll give Shane Robin and Darcy Pascovitch a head's up I may need them."

"Monday, I'll have all the itemized receipts from the potions shops and can confirm we have the right men. Every shop here to Hogsmeade has been issued a warning not to sell certain ingredients in large amounts to customers..." she continued, referencing her notes as she spoke. "Then we'll just have to track the thugs down. I'm hoping I can hit the field and do some observation next Tuesday or Wednesday to confirm things before I send you and your men in."

"I'll join you," he said. It wasn’t a question. She bit her lip as she remembered why they didn’t work very well together. In the normal protocol, she would scout alone. It was much easier to go unnoticed when solo. 

"That's certainly not necessary," she scoffed. 

"It's not for your benefit," he explained. "It's for mine."

"If you insist... But you best not blow my cover."

"It won't be an issue,” he assured her. He peered once more at all of the information she’d managed to amass in such a short amount of time. He really didn’t want to tell her he was impressed using words, but he gave an approving nod. "Well, I think that's all I need for today. Keep me updated.”

She looked up, unamused. "As you wish."

He left the cubicle, but not before turning and placing his hand on the stack of files for a moment. He’d had a brief change of heart. "Good work today, Woodwell." 

\---

At 6 o'clock, an hour after she should have left, Kensington extinguished the lights in her cube. "Go home, Wellwood."

"I'm salary," she said. "What do you mind? I'm making your job easier."

"That's an order," he said in a scolding time. "I need you sharp for this case, go get some rest."

"Fine," she sighed, putting her reading glasses down and packing her bag. 

Ten minutes later, she was above ground and walking home. The fresh air was nice, the early June breeze rustling her hair as she walked. She stopped at the grocer on the corner, buying a salad, bottle of wine and a tabloid, before heading up three flights of stairs to the flat she shared with her boyfriend, Ames.

She looked at the clock. Seven. It would be hours before Ames was home. The season had started and she was officially a Quidditch widow. A large glass of wine accompanied dinner, and an even larger one made up dessert, as she flipped through the ridiculous headlines of the cheap magazine. It was her favorite brand of escapism.

Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she settled into bed. It was getting late, but she'd lived with Ames long enough to know he'd see himself to bed. 

She fell into a deep sleep, dreaming vaguely of her mother and her turbulent childhood. The changing landscape of the mattress woke her, as Ames situated himself in bed. 

"What time is it?" She asked, her voice raspy from sleep.

"Nearly three, Liv," he said softly. "Sorry I was out so late, the boys wanted to celebrate--"

"Don't worry about it," she murmured, her voice crackly. She could smell the many pints of beer on him, but just rolled over to her side of the bed to get more comfortable. He followed, wrapping his thick arms around her before he began snoring in her ear. She was too tired to do anything about it. 

\---

Monday morning, she was at her desk by eight, pouring over the many pages of itemized receipts sent by eighteen different potions shops. This was exactly what she needed. She began marking certain receipts, and cross-checking their transactions with Gringott's records.

"Bingo," she said circling it and setting them aside. 

St. Mungo's had written her back over the weekend, and confirmed that Gertrude McCain had been discharged to a rehabilitation center just outside of the city. Liv spent some time writing them to confirm she was still a patient there, then sealed it with the Ministry's logo in wax, for authenticity. 

"Lars," she called, looking up at the cubicle across from hers. She wanted the new, fresh out of Hogwarts intern to take the letter for her, so she didn't need to step away from her work.

"Yeah?" 

She held the letter up over the wall of her cubicle, not looking up from her work. "Make sure this is mailed priority for me."

"Oh, uh, Kensington wants me to make copies of--"

She glanced up at him over her reading glasses.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I took a quick break, heh," he said, nervously.

"Thank you, Lars."

\--- 

By the end of the day, she had everything she needed. She presented it all to Kensington, explaining every aspect of it down to Gertrude McCain's absence, the suspicious activity at her address, and the matching transactions in the two suspects accounts.

"Looks great," he said. "That's why I put you on this case. Top notch work, Wellwood."

"Thank you, sir," she said, clasping her hands together. "I think I'll be out of the office tomorrow doing some research in person."

"Seems like a logical next step."

"Potter wants to come with me," she explained.

"Really?" He asked, wrinkling his face up in confusion. "I already told him I put my best worker in charge..."

She rolled her eyes slightly, annoyed that Potter felt the need to shadow her on the field, as if she wasn't capable of a case like this. "He said it was for his own benefit."

"I suppose," Kensington said, shrugging his shoulders. "If he insists, by all means."

"I'll go confirm with him, but unless you hear anything from me, assume we're not in the office tomorrow."

"Great," he said. "Oh, and be a little nicer to the intern, maybe?"

"Maybe,” she pondered. She knew her reputation was never stellar, but her work always was. Kensington was trying to develop her people skills. Those could be taught. Being good at research was innate.

\---

Potter had an office, unlike Liv. When she got there, the door was closed with the blinds shut. She paced back and forth for a minute, then grew bored. 

"Hey, Taryn," she said, approaching the woman who worked as an assistant to Potter and a few other high up aurors. "Potter in a meeting?"

"Yes, he's been in all afternoon. I'm not sure how much longer it will be," Taryn explained. 

"Helpful," she said, under her breath. "I need to leave a message with him, and it's of the utmost importance that he receive it as soon as possible. I need him to come see me to talk."

"I'll be sure to tell him as soon as he's free."

She strolled back to her desk. Monday afternoons were the only day she ever cut out of work early, as Monday was Ames' day off. All her work was wrapped up, so she was stuck, waiting for Potter to grace her with his presence, before she could go home and spend a few hours with her boyfriend.

She waited an hour before getting up again, circling the office to see if he was really still in a meeting. She found herself getting pretty heated when she saw his door was open.

She swung around the corner and into the office. "You didn't get my message?"

"No, I did. I just had other things to take care of first," Potter said, his face entirely neutral. "But I suppose you're here now, so what do you need?"

"Me? I don't need anything," she said, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. "But if you still wanted to join me in the field tomorrow, I have some info you might want."

"Oh, yes," he said, his tone changing. "Please, sit."

"I'm not staying long," she said. "Meet me here at nine, and we'll walk to the observation spot together. Look like a muggle. And bring stuff to make yourself look busy. A book or something.”

She handed him a small stack of papers, including the annotated map. He looked over it, nodding. "Alright, great. I'll see you at nine, Wellwood."


	2. Chapter 2

She left the flat around eight so she could take a leisurely walk through the city. She ducked into a store to purchase breakfast and entertainment for the day. She was dressed in her most Muggle outfit, dark ripped jeans and a shirt that had a famous Muggle band's logo on it. A pair of dark sunglasses on her head held her hair back and out of her face. Her hair was usually braided, but her goal today was to look the least like herself as possible.

She was early, as usual, and sat on a bench at their meeting spot, her foot tapping as she waited. She thought about cracking open today's tabloid, but it was purely to look busy and normal, so thought against it. She did not have to put on the act here.

Finally, a few minutes before nine, she spotted him from a distance. She was satisfied with the outfit he picked. In their casual, weekday looks, they could've been tourists or just two friends enjoying a rare sunny London day.

"Good morning," she called when he was a few paces away.

"Where to, Wellwood?" he asked. "You're in charge."

Church bells rang in the distance, giant clangs signaling it was nine o'clock. She found a bench across from where the address in question should have been... but somehow didn't exist.

"Now we wait?" He asked.

"That's why I told you to bring stuff to look busy," she explained. "They've obviously got wards up, we just need to wait for them to slip up and then decipher what you're dealing with."

"Right," he said. "I could guess what they're using, I've got similar protections on my own home-"

"Good aurors don't guess," she said, echoing words that every Auror had heard a thousand times before they got on their first case.

He nodded, knowing she was right. She was a pain in the arse to deal with, but she wasn't incompetent. "That's correct."

"Gotta keep the fan girls out?" She asked, reaching in the plastic shopping bag and taking out the parfait she'd bought for breakfast.

"Came with the place, actually," he said.

She ate her granola and yogurt slowly, trying to look as natural as possible, while keeping her eyes fixed across the street.

"I was beginning to think you didn't eat," he said, in an attempt at small talk. "Not sure I've ever seen you in the cafeteria."

She swallowed the bite of yogurt she'd just taken before replying. "Big fan of a working lunch."

He nodded and got to reading his files, which he'd charmed to look like a muggle newspaper. But his eyes also flicked up across the street. She was not used to having company, and found it rather distracting.

After about forty minutes of waiting, she stood up, and lit a long, skinny cigarette.

"Those are horrible for you," Potter said.

She shrugged, stretching her arms out wide and walking a few paces away to both stretch her legs and not to bother him. She didn't like him, but she didn't want to be a complete arse and smoke him out.

They watched. And they waited. She took the apple out of her bag and ate that, out of sheer boredom.

"How do you not lose your mind?" He asked.

"Sometimes it's far easier. Sometimes I'm there ten minutes and I have all the info I need. These buggers, though... they might hold out on us awhile. But they'll slip up eventually. They've slipped up on everything else." she explained. "And I've perfected the art of counting how many people have walked past."

"And?"

"One hundred and eighteen people so far. Six dogs, although I'm not counting the one a woman carried in her purse," she said, in obvious disdain. He smiled at the small cracks of a not-miserable person she was allowing to slip through.

She tried to look natural, reading her tabloid, reading Ames' upcoming games and marking which ones she would be at, making a grocery list.

"How long do you think we should stay?" He asked, after they'd been sitting there for nearly two hours without any sign of activity.

"Well, we don't want to look suspicious. Maybe another half hour. We need this info before your guys go in there, though. Why, got another afternoon long meeting?"

"No, I cleared my schedule for you," he said.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised. That was a big deal, and a huge sign of respect. "Well."

She glanced at her watch, as it ticked forward. She started to grow weary of watching, and felt her attention was slipping. She was sure Potter's had gone as well, since this was not his usual line of work.

"Maybe we should head back to the office," she suggested.

"Back to the office?" He questioned. "Kensington told me to make you go home after we were done in the field today, something about too many hours-"

"That arse," she sighed. What was she supposed to do for six more hours until Ames got home? She ran her fingers through her hair and flipped her sunglasses down over her eyes. "Alright then. Same place, after lunch on Friday?"

"I'm free," he said. "Meet in the office?"

"Sure."

She nodded at him and turned around, walking in the direction of her flat. Guess this meant she was going to scrub the place from top to bottom this afternoon.

At noon on Friday, Liv wrapped up her side projects and prepared to hit the field. She quickly changed into muggle clothes and stored the rest of her things at her desk. She looked totally different today, wearing a gray silk blouse, a skirt, and the sapphire necklace Ames had gotten her for Christmas. She'd even put on lipstick.

She glanced up to see Potter walking towards her, dressed like any old Muggle working an office job in the city would. It was an odd sight, but it was the right one.

"Let's do this," he said, and they began the journey to the same bench as before. She really hoped that they would get some info today, else they'd need a new vantage spot to remain inconspicuous.

Liv lit up a cigarette and paced a bit. If they couldn't crack this, what would they do? Send Harry and his team in blind? Hope that through sheer dumb luck, Harry's familiarity with this kind of magic would suffice? It just wasn't an option.

"You're making me nervous," he said, after her third cigarette in a row. "You're going to wear a hole in the side walk. Sit down, will you?

"I think better when I pace. Plus, I might as well use your eyes and attention before they're gone. Unless, of course, they are already.

"Hey, I've done a fine job so far," he said, and she realized she'd dug into him just a bit too far. "I'm not sure why you're always such an uptight arse about everything."

She huffed, and stamped out her cigarette with her boot, then got sat back down, this time resting her ass on the top of the bench and putting her hands out, palm down, on her knees.

"This shit killed my mum," she said, quietly. She had no idea what compelled her to spill her guts to someone she didn't even like, but here she was, and there was no way to un-tell him.

"Oh, god," he said, furrowing his brow. She didn't want the sympathy. "You should've had Kensington give you a different case-"

"I'm not letting the choice of others handicap my career," she said. "This is a big case to be associated with."

"I'm sorry, Wellwood. I'm really not sure what else to say," he said. His entire demeanor had changed, instead of combating her sarcasm with his wit, his face softened. "Just you and your dad then?"

"Nah, never knew him," she said, itching for another cigarette. "Walked out before I was born."

"...siblings?"

"Just me," she said, and he had a little more understanding on why she was… the way she was.

"You're ...dating someone though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Ames and I have been together for a few years. So I've got him at least." she said.

Their silence was a little more comfortable now, but she was still stressed and found herself smoking and pacing often.

"He plays Quidditch, doesn't he?" Potter asked, noticing that she would stop pacing to answer and it was really driving him barmy.

"He's a Beater for the Tornadoes."

"You must be quite the Quidditch widow right now then," he said. "I remember those days."

She thought back to all the headlines in the tabloids about his divorce, but that must have been years ago, now. "It's the worst, right?"

"God forbid they have more than a day off a week, and even on off days they're working out, and of course their off days never line up with your off days."

"Oh, of course not. That would be far too convenient," she said. "I'm lucky if I duck out of work early on Monday once a month, just to spend a few extra hours with him."

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he asked "I kept you waiting Monday, didn't I?"

She extinguished her cigarette, sat down, and nodded. "You did. But how would you have known?"

"Well, we actually found something in common," Potter said. "Perhaps now you won't hate me."

"I didn't hate you," she said. "I don't hate anyone. Okay, maybe I hate Houston, but that's only because he's incompetent and has no respect of deadlines, and he has the office I wanted."

"He's such a pain to work with," Potter agreed, emphatically. "I try as hard as possible to avoid it."

She smiled, before turning back to what was in her lap. He let some time go by, his eyes focused across the street intently.

"So how'd you get to be on the Research team?" he asked.

"Well," she said, sighing as she figured out how to briefly outline her transformation from a careless Hogwarts student to someone with an actual career. "I was an awful student... for most of my time at Hogwarts. I'm talking truly poor marks."

"You don't seem like the type," he said, wrinkling his nose at her.

"I simply didn't care," she explained. "And my mother couldn't be bothered by what marks I made. But my best friend, Holly- Evanson, you probably know her as, she had these big dreams of being an Auror. Nothing was going to stand in her way..."

He looked, thoughtfully for a moment, trying to place her. "Not sure I know an Evanson..."

"She's short? Blonde curly hair? Did a lot of work on the Stonehenge case two years ago..." she began, trying to figure out how to link the two of them up. "Really, eh, big tits?"

"Ah, her!" He said. "Haven't seen her for awhile."

She shoved him.

"You're a git, I'll have you know," she said, laughing. "She's been out on maternity leave- had the kid, I dunno, six months ago now. Anyways. She was dead set on me not failing out of absolutely everything, so she kept dragging me to Divination classes."

"Really?" He asked. "Out of all the subjects, Divination?"

"Hey, I am an expert tea leaf reader," she defended herself with utmost sincerity. "Anyways, between that old bat Trelawney and Holly, they managed to convince me that my attention to detail was a skill that I could use, and a gracious fool named Paul Kensington agreed to take me on with an internship after Hogwarts."

"Interesting," he said. "And you've been there since?"

"When Kensington started going to the intern before some of his Junior Researchers, he decided it was time for a promotion... and I guess I've worked my way up over the last seven years."

"Good for you," he said. "I don't envy your job, but you're damn good at it."

"Thank you, Potter," she said, quietly examining her hands.

"Are you and Evanson still close?"

"Friendships are complicated," she murmured, not wanting to go into any further detail.

A moment later, her eyes fixated across the street as a young man approached, stumbling a bit. She was grateful to pivot their conversation back to work.

"Huh," she said, beginning to scribble on the pad in her lap.

"He doesn't look like one of the suspects."

"No, but he sure looks like a buyer," she said, unfortunately knowing all too much about what the signs were.

They watched him stumble around, even making it up one stoop to knock on the door. Harry got up, as discreetly as possible, to get a better vantage point on the man as he began to wobble off in another direction.

She watched, with bated breath, hoping their suspects would reveal themselves, or at least let the bugger in so she and Potter could get a peak at their charms.

But it was no luck. He made it almost out of her sight, and she turned to Potter, who nodded at her as he began to tail him. She was merely there to observe and report. Actually apprehending anyone? That was definitely not her territory. That was the sort of thing she'd get disciplined for.

Since there was nothing more to see, she turned her attention back to her notes to make sure she had everything she wanted to remember. Her eyes periodically flicked up, checking the status of across the street. She was disheartened, to say the least.

She lit up another cigarette, waiting for Potter to make his way back to their spot. It was about twenty minutes before he approached her from behind, huffing and puffing.

"Out of shape, Potter?" She asked, not looking up, but smirking.

"Just hauled my arse out of there when I realized he was about to notice me," he explained. "Then I had to take the long way back to try and throw him off if he decided to follow me."

She nodded. "We're still at square one."

"I know," he said. "And we need a new vantage point if we're going to stake out here again."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

"Has Dawsyn been sending you the reports?" Potter asked, taking his seat next to her again.

"Another six admitted to St. Mungo's..." She thought briefly of her mother's affliction, then pushed it straight out of her head. "You could go in blind, but that seems like a rather foolish thing to do."

"Far too foolish," he agreed. "I'm not sure what sorts of wards they have up, what they're capable of."

"I'll write to Hogwarts," she said. "Speak to their professors, see if they were talented in any of their subjects."

"They had awful marks, Wellwood-"

"So didn't I, now look where I am."

He nodded, admitting she was right. "Alright. I hate to let this hang over the weekend, but it seems it's going to have to."

"I have more research to do... I want this case closed," she explained.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

"I'm heading back to the office," she said, and he got up and followed.

Upon returning to her desk, she disregarded the inbox full of mail and turned straight to her parchment, sending off letters to Hogwarts that she hoped would be read and returned with haste. It took her a few hours, but she managed to get at least one letter back assessing the skills of the men in question.

"McCain was skilled, but lacked application. Homework assignments were sloppy, if turned in at all. Very little grasp of the upper theory of charms that took more dedication to learn, but he was quite gifted with a wand. It would not surprise me at all if he had used this talent for negative things..."

"Wellwood," Kensington said, as he shut the door to his office behind him. "It's half past quitting time."

"I know," she sighed. "I've just got to-"

"What's the status on the case?"

"We've got more evidence we're in the right place, we're just trying to nail some things down further before we send the team in there."

"Very good," he said. "Now get out of here before I vanish your light sources."

She grumbled about it, but collected her things and got out of there for the week. She walked home slowly, tired, but her head was moving at a fast pace. She was trying to piece things together.

She knew Ames had a game tonight, again... So she stopped at the store down the street and got the Quidditch widow special: a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream. She knew there were leftovers in the fridge.

As she walked up the stairs to her third floor flat, she couldn't help but feel mentally exhausted by this entire week. She wanted this case over. Hopefully Tuesday, she could get the evidence she needed and hand the case over to Potter. Her entire head would be much clearer after they left the debriefing meeting for the case.

As soon as she stepped in the front door, she was startled. Ames was home.

"Hey," she said, putting her things down on the counter. "What's going on?"

"I'm not allowed to be in my flat?" He asked from where he stood by the stove, his arms crossed.

"No, you are... It's just Friday, during the season."

"Game was cancelled due to weather," he said. "I'm guessing you didn't get my note."

"Note?"

"I sent you a note to work that I'd be home early and I wanted to go out. I asked you to meet me at that new restaurant over in your part of town, the one on-"

"Oh, Ames, I was in the field and I've just had the craziest day," she pleaded.

"It's fine" he said, raising his arms. "I get it."

She knew there was no winning here, and she was tired. She turned, put her boot up on the chair and unlaced them, one by one, and slipped them off, her toes wiggling in freedom.

"What've you got there?" Ames asked. She knew he'd come around, and let him poke through her bag. "Wine and ice cream. Why are you always bringing home such absolute trash and putting it in your body?"

"For fuck's sake," Liv screeched, crossing the threshold of what she would allow. "I'm underwater in the most important case I've worked on in over a year, can you give me a goddamn break, Ames?"

She kicked her boots into a pile by the door and went to lock herself in the bedroom.

"Don't you-" he reached out and grabbed her arm, and the force he used shocked both of them and he dropped her arm.

Tears sprung to her eyes, and she walked straight into the bedroom and locked the door behind her. She didn't want to look at him. She felt disgusting, and any evidence of an appetite disappeared.

She snuck the balcony door open and lit up a cigarette. She rarely smoked when she was home, but she needed something to force her to slow down, take a deep breath, and focus.

She reached at her sleeve and pulled it up. A red handprint shape had already formed against her pale white skin, and her shoulder ached from being tugged. Ames was stronger than he ever realized.

She thought about leaving, about packing a bag and taking it elsewhere for the night, but she really had nowhere to go. She hadn't spoken to Holly in a few months, after Holly had blown her off twice, and didn't want to resume that friendship by showing up at her door upset. Holly's new obsession with her baby had caused the divide to grow between them. She felt incredibly trapped, and had never felt quite so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Here's chapter two! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, DMed me, and subscribed to this story! The support is really awesome. Evergreen thanks to potter-reading-coastie for betaing this story. Next chapter will be up, same time, same place on Wednesday!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: First story published on AO3! And even better, I have the entire story written (including epilogue!) and will be releasing a new chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 9am EST. This was just a bit of an intro, normal chapters will be around 3K words and there should be about 30 chapters to this story. Many, many thanks to my beta potter-reading-coastie, because if not for him, this story would never have left my google drive. Stay tuned for more on Monday!


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